


Dressed and Undressed

by starfleetdream



Series: Gratified By Your Company [21]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdream/pseuds/starfleetdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Er, you're going out in that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressed and Undressed

She was wearing a short skirt and a shimmery top, brightly colored tights covering her legs.  Sarek was… perturbed.  He had certainly seen more exotic or revealing female dress in his travels and even here on Earth, but he could not deny the effect of what he saw.

“You are wearing that… ensemble to the event hosted by your friends?”  he inquired, taking care to ensure that his tone remained neutral.

“This _is_ what one wears to a club, after all, Sarek,” Amanda said lightly.  When he did not respond, she turned toward him.  “What’s wrong?”

He took a breath.  “You attire is not entirely in keeping with your role as wife of the Vulcan Ambassador, Amanda.”

Amanda blinked. “What?”

“Your attire is—”

“I _heard_ you,” she cut him off, exasperated. 

Now it was his turn to be puzzled.  “Then why did you ask--?”

“Sarek, I’m meeting some friends in a,” she searched for a description, “a place for recreation, parties.  For me to show up in something more… formal… just wouldn’t be right.”

He regarded her with a look that she was sure indicated skepticism.  “Besides,” she added, “it’s not as if this is all that different from other things you’ve seen me wear.”

 _Yes, I am well aware_.  Sarek’s mind quickly thought back to the very first time he had seen Amanda – Dr. Grayson – in what she would describe as “party attire.”

ooo

It had been mid-December.   He had just been reflecting on a particularly interesting conversation he had had with her about similarities and differences in humanoid seasonal celebratory rituals, when suddenly she had appeared with a group of colleagues.  They appeared to be leaving the embassy as a group when his eyes caught hers and she stopped to greet him.   She and her co-workers were on their way to the Federation Linguistics Association’s holiday party, she informed him – (Sarek had wondered why the Federation’s linguists had a need to celebrate Terran winter holidays) – and that was the reason for the group’s “festive” attire, as she had called it. 

He hadn’t noticed the others’ dress, but he did notice hers.  She wore a pair of slim dark trousers and a matching short jacket – these were not unusual – but covering her midriff underneath the jacket was a bright red top in a soft fabric trimmed along the top with a white, fur-like material, which appeared to leave her shoulders quite bare.  He could not verify this fact because of the presence of the jacket, although he was… curious.

Noticing his gaze, she indicated her clothes and the bright red, pointed hat she was holding.  “I’m supposed to be one of Santa’s— er, never mind.  It’s for the party.”  She blushed then, and Sarek watched with fascination as pink color suffused her face.

Before he could engage her further, her colleagues drew her attention away.  “Yes, I’m coming with you!” she had called after them, laughing, before turning back to him apologetically.  “I’m sorry I have to go, Sarek.  Perhaps lunch tomorrow?”

As he watched her leave, he was struck with the impression that he was missing something important.  The lunches and educational outings they shared were enlightening and, he even dared to admit, pleasant, but he found he desired more.  What would it be like to attend one of these Human celebrations with her?  While he was still wondering precisely _why_ he desired this, his mind quickly supplied him with a means to address it.  He was to attend the Earth Embassy’s New Year’s celebration in a few weeks’ time; he would invite Amanda as his guest.

When the date for the event arrived, he found he was further confounded by Amanda’s dress.  She met him in a short dress ( _very short_ , he thought) that left her legs bare.  The effect was quite distracting, and the style of dress a sufficient departure from what she usually wore that he ventured to inquire about it (without, of course, revealing its distracting effect on him).

“Your attire is different this evening, Amanda.”

“Why, yes, this is, uh, a cocktail dress. The invitation did specify ‘cocktail dress,’ am I right?”

 _Why has her face flushed pink at this moment?_   “Indeed.  However, I do not fully comprehend.  In my experience, my usual diplomatic garb has been considered appropriate.   Is there some particular garment Humans require to consume alcoholic beverages?”  _And how do bare legs assist in this stated purpose of consuming “cocktails”?_

Amanda laughed.  “No, but I can see how you might get that impression.  It’s just an expression to indicate a certain style of dress.  But,” she added, looking him over, “your attire is definitely appropriate.”  She had smiled warmly at him then, and he had felt an illogical stab of pleasure – why should he be pleased that she approved?

He continued to notice unusual things once they arrived at the event.   He noted other females wearing a similar style of clothing as his guest but they did not have the same effect on him.  Indeed, only his colleague’s choice of attire seemed to be causing this problem.  Only Dr. Grayson… Amanda.  He noticed how her dress moved on her body while she danced— with others.  He also noticed Ambassador Singh noticing her, and he definitely noticed his own reaction to that. 

His thoughts surprised him; they bordered on the improper.  Reminding himself again that physical stimuli simply needed to be controlled, he was finally able to push the distracting thoughts aside, due to the strength of his control and to the fact that he was finally able to obtain some time alone with her out on the patio-- for conversation, of course.   That is, until midnight struck and they were surrounded by Human couples kissing and his thoughts wandered again…

He meditated for an extra long time that night.

In spite of the unexpected challenges the evening had presented, Sarek decided to invite Amanda to other diplomatic events. There were many logical reasons for doing so.

Before the next, she had asked him about the requisite dress again.  “Cocktail or formal?”  At his quizzical expression, she explained that “formal” usually indicated floor length dresses for women.  He had responded, “floor length” quickly, thinking that he would successfully avoid the unwelcome stimuli that had resulted from her previous choice of apparel.

On the evening of the second appointed event Sarek discovered that he had again miscalculated with respect to Dr. Grayson’s appearance.  Her outfit did indeed extend to the floor, but to his dismay, when she removed her short coat, her shoulders were completely bare.  

The entire dress stopped just above her breasts, suspended there somehow, exposing her shoulders, her neck, and upper back.  The technology to accomplish this was surely not particularly advanced, but he found himself musing on its likely workings and potential failure points as if it were a component to a new warp drive engine.  (He had even started to calculate the risk of it falling off before he stopped himself).  The dress drew his attention to those bared parts of her, and to the slender, elegant (and _curved…)_ column that was her body.  He attempted to avert his gaze from her bare skin only to discover instead the effect the dress had on her hips… 

And yet, when he observed the effect of similar dress worn by others, it was clear that it was only Amanda he noticed in this way.  _Curious_.  The experience was unexpectedly… pleasurable.  Finally, unable to divert his attention, he accepted the logic of acknowledging that which was.  It couldn’t be so illogical to appreciate what he saw, from an aesthetic point of view, of course.  It was nothing that more meditation wouldn’t address.

ooo

That had been eleven point four two months ago.  Now, observing his wife, Sarek had no problem appreciating her beauty.  However, taking in the alluring form of his wife, he could not believe that all the males on this world could be so unobservant as not to notice her as he did.  He did not like that idea at all.

“Sarek?” Amanda was peering at him, a slight frown marring her forehead.  “Are you… _bothered_ by what I’m wearing?”

“To be ‘bothered’ implies a Human emotion, Amanda.  I am merely thinking of your comfort and safety.  I would not wish you to be harassed.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed slightly in that way they did when she was about to make some uncomfortably perceptive observation about him.  “Right,” she murmured.

Just as he thought he would escape from a too-telling assessment, she asked, “Have you always had this… concern, my husband?”

Sarek knew the answer to her question was, in fact, a resounding yes, but he was also aware that the expression of such possessiveness was offensive to most Humans.  _Another incomprehensible fact._   Nonetheless, he did not wish to upset his wife.

“‘Always’ is quite an imprecise term, my wife.  I believe,” he added, diplomatically changing the subject, “that it is time for your celebration to begin.  What did you call it?” 

“A belated bachelorette party,” Amanda supplied with a smile as they began walking down to the flitter that would take her there.

 _At least the name suggests there will only be females in attendance,_ he thought.

“I won’t be late,” she offered, sensing his disquiet once again.

“Indeed, I shall await your return.”

“Sure you don’t want to stop by – for just one dance?”

He drew back, perturbed enough again to let it show.  “You will be dancing?”

“Just with my girlfriends, silly.  Since you won’t be there.” Amanda gave him a pout.

Sarek allowed one corner of his mouth to upturn just slightly as he brushed her fingers with two of his.  “I will dance with you, later…” he murmured, his voice low, as he watched her blush again.

She was his.  And he was hers.  He knew she knew that.  He solidified the _oz’hesta_ further and silently relaxed into the comfort, the _rightness_ , of the touch of their minds.   He could give her these few hours – or so he hoped.

“I love you,” she whispered.  She squeezed his fingers affectionately, then slipped into the flitter.   He nodded gravely, his outward presence impassive as always.

His perfect time sense began painfully counting the seconds until she returned.

 

THE END


End file.
